


After Hours

by misaffection



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex and James get... reacquainted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

Silk slides against silk with the softest susurrus, the knot coming undone at her quiet persistence. She pulls it free and folds it in her hands, the cool fabric so smooth it seems almost damp. His reaction to her removal of his tie is a mere quirk of one eyebrow, silently questioning what she intends to do with it now. Several possibilities come to mind, but she settles for placing it on his desk.

That done, she considers him for a moment – for all that he looks calm and unperturbed, she’s aware that his breathing is quicker than normal, and he can’t hide the dilation of his pupils. She lets her lip twitch into a small smile, but still doesn’t say a word.

As long as it’s been, she doesn’t need to, and she can’t help think that too many words were half the problem in the first place. Or rather, the wrong words from the wrong person – she’s under no illusion that if she’d spoken to _him_ , they might have avoided five years of pain.

But she won’t dwell on that now. She undoes the top button of his shirt, and then the next. Her movements are small and deliberate, unhurried. The blinds are down, the door is locked, and they have all the time in the world. Plus going slow is driving him crazy and she’s in that sort of mood right now.

She gets to the fourth button. Undoes it and folds the sides of his shirt back. For once he’s not wearing a vest underneath and her action leaves him exposed to her slow reacquaintance of his chest. Laying her hand flat just left of his sternum, she can feel the rapid beat of his heart against her palm. Her gaze shifts to the pink jagged line that follows the curve of his collarbone. She touches it and he finally moves; closing his hand around her wrist and pulling her away.

He shakes his head, his smile turning wry. _No regrets_. She understands that much, but it still happened. She braces her other hand on his chest, then leans in and brushes the scar with her lips. He shudders beneath her, his grip tightening. She smiles against his skin, then pulls back to grin wider at him.

His lips part as she edges forward. She gets close enough that their breaths mingle, then gives a low laugh and denies him. Tugging her wrist from his grip, she strokes his cheek, watching the shift in his eyes. He’s hard for others to read, edging his words with sarcasm to disguise his emotions and presenting a cold front few bother to weather. But under the prickles and hard edges is a man who feels deeply. She’s wounded that heart once and she knows he’s struggling to get past that.

She’s struggling herself; wrapped in guilt and the sharp knowledge she allowed a wedge to be driven between them. She doubts that she’ll ever truly forgive herself, even if he does.

This won’t mend everything, but it’s another step towards it. She shoves the past away and concentrates on the now. Her kiss is a graze of his cheek, closing in and then pulling back with a smirk. He grouses her name and she giggles.

It’d be easier to kiss him, to give over to the need spreading through her, but she doesn’t want to rush this. She lets her hands wander, sweeping them down his arms and feeling the tight cord of muscle under the warm brush of cotton, then over his stomach and higher until it’s flesh against flesh once more. His skin is hot, his breathing sharp, his heart racing. Straddled across his thighs, she can’t help but be very aware of another response and she bites her bottom lip as a shift of his hips brings them closer. But there’s far too much clothing in the way; a problem she’s every intention of correcting… in her own time.

She slides a brace strap over his shoulder, trying not to roll her eyes. Why he wears them is a quirk she’s never figured out. She’s asked, but his reasons are vague to the point she suspects he doesn’t really know. It’s a habit more than a conscious decision, but she doesn’t mind, In fact, she rather loves him for it.

Her fingers run through his hair. It’s still a little too long, still soft, and she still loves ruffling it out of its careful combing. His expression is one of rueful annoyance. She giggles again and threads both hands in. Holds his head and bends to his mouth. Heat flares inside her, spreading out and leaving goosebumps in its wake. God, how could she have forgotten how well this man can kiss? His hands span her waist. She closes her eves and tastes him deeper, losing herself in the slow pass of tongues, the way his lips move against hers.

She’s breathless when she breaks away. Her gaze meets his and she knows. It’s been far too long, has denied them too much. Her heart threatens to shatter under the weight of the past. He frowns and cups her face. His thumb dries a tears she wasn’t aware of shedding.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, the first word spoken in an age.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s not enough and never will be. “James.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice is rough. Her agony is reflected in his eyes. “It’s over and done, Alex. Let it go.”

She stares at him, wondering where she even starts. Perhaps here and now. His smile is crooked but it reaches his eyes and God, but she loves him so much. She’s never stopped. He’s all she’s wanted, all she needs now.

Kissing him soundly, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. He winds a hand between them and she feels the tug on her blouse as he works each button free. She’d help, but she’s busy and he is capable after all. He pulls one arm down and shoves her blouse off. She shakes it off the other and then returns the favour, stripping the shirt from him.

“You realise most office romances fail, right?” he says then, his expression mischievous.

She swats his shoulder. “You realise I can handle a gun now?”

He laughs at that, then pulls her in. He lifts a hand to the back of her hand. She feels the metal teeth relax their grip and then her hair tumbles from its loose knot. His eyes darken as he winds a strand around one finger. Her chest tightens at the look on his face.

And suddenly it’s like no time has passed, like nothing ever came between them. He still remembers every sensitive spot, can still make her squirm. But then, she knows what makes him groan her name exactly like that.

She pulls back and drops her hands to his waist, thumbs the button of his trousers open. His eyebrows lift. She smirks. His office might not be the best place for this, but that isn’t going to stop her. She works his fly down.

He opens his mouth, then his forehead wrinkles. He shrugs, reaches around and unclips her bra. Not that she’s overly surprised – he’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He’s always known exactly what he wants.

And yet he’s _here_ , where normal ceases to exist and order has dissolved into chaos. The team are a hotchpotch of civilian scientists and experts, thrown together by accident rather than design. That it works, that it resembles anything like a research facility at all, is down to him keeping it all together. More than that – she knows, because she sees past the bluster and sarcasm, sees that he cares for them. Only she sees the quiet grief and guilt he still carries over Stephen.

It makes her love him more, and increases her determined to make this work. She pushes the fold of his trousers down, releases the hard line of his erection from the silk of his boxers and shifts forward. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her down for a rough kiss.

The leather of his chair creaks as she rocks her hips. She giggles a little, and hopes the frame continues to support their combined weight. Especially now she’s not staying still. On the other hand, she’d love to hear his explanation of how it got broken. She’s never going to be able to look at him sat here without getting hot.

His hands grip her hips, urging her faster, pulling her down harder. She leans against his, her head on his shoulder, and lets the delicious sensation wash over her.

“Can I ask…” He pauses, scooping her hair off her face. Vulnerability furrows the spot between his eyebrows; an expression only she has ever been trusted with. “Was there… Did you?”

She smiles at his sudden lack of eloquence. “No. There’s never been anyone else, James. I never stopped loving you.”

He stares at her for a long moment. She holds his gaze. Then he nods once. “I didn’t really think so, but it’s good to be sure.”

“And you?”

“Like anyone could compare.”

Alex tussles his hair, then kisses him firmly. “Do you think we can make it work?”

“I always believed that.” There’s no admonishment in his tone, just simple confidence. His lips quirk into a lopsided grin. “And since I’m now responsible for you staying on, I suspect that your assignment might just have a fair amount of longevity to it.”

She chuckles. “You’re not allowed to do that, James.”

“Maybe not, but it wouldn’t be the first rule I’ve broken.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

His expression radiates innocence. “I have no idea to what you’re referring to.”

Alex sits back. She looks at him and then down. “I’m pretty sure this contravenes several regulations. And possibly constitutes as making sexual advancements.”

He sighs. “I know. I feel so violated.”

She snorts. “I’m sure you do.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stop, mind.”

“No?”

“ _No_.”

“Shocking.” She gives up with a soft laugh; he is beyond incorrigible and clearly doesn’t care about the lines they’re blurring. “All right, then.”

If she’s honest, she doesn’t care either. Nothing else matters be reclaiming him as hers. She is not going to run again.

The chair groans as she pushes down hard, driving him deeper inside. A frisson shivers up her spine. They might be breaking regulations, but damn it feels very, very right. His hands slide from her waist to her breasts. She teeters on the edge, panting hard and fast, feeling his hot breath against her neck, the firm kneed of his hands.

Her thighs tremble as she manages one last lift. She drops heavily, gasping as the tension shatters and turns her vision blurry. His grip is almost painfully tight and his shudder makes her whimper. Oxygen is in short supply, but that doesn’t stop her from kissing him hungrily, her emotions demanding she pull him closer, deeper, and more, more, more.

She chokes on the pain in her chest, and there’s no keeping it inside. She sags in the circle of his arms and sobs it out until she’s empty. He says nothing, just strokes her hair and back, imparting a wordless comfort that slowly eases the agony. When she catches her breath and pulls back, she find his cheeks as damp as hers.

“Can you forgive me?” she asks, her voice rusty with tears.

He smiles slightly. “I already did.”

She swallows and sniffs. It’s not terribly delicate or particularly romantic. He digs a hand in his trouser pocket and fishes out a handkerchief. Always prepared, and she manages to giggle at him. He smiles back.

Alex settles her head on his shoulder. She supposes at some point they ought to move, but she’s drained and more than content to stay where she is. It’s a start, rocky as it might have been, but she was hardly expecting otherwise. She knows it won’t be an easy journey, though it will be worthwhile.

She lays her hand over his and he immediately links his fingers. She smiles against his neck. Definitely worthwhile, because he’ll be with her at every step.


End file.
